No Wimpy Bagels Here

I still vividly remember the first time I had a real, New York bagel — I was an intern in lower Manhattan, about a week into my first rotation in the world of finance. Fridays anywhere are permeated with that pleasant tingle of an impending weekend, but something about the 13 hour days in my old office made everyone extra giddy when that last day rolled around. That specific Friday, one of the salespeople brought in bagels and lox for breakfast — maybe nothing special to the veteran New Yorkers in the room, but to a guy that had previously only eaten Einstein's and Great American Bagels, these were a revelation.

Finished

New Yorkers are infamous for claiming that everything about their city is "the best". Pizza, bagels, hot dogs — even the water — is held in almost absurdly high esteem by Big Apple natives. Being a Chicagoan, I was unimpressed by their floppy pizza, boring hot dogs and ordinary water (not that Chicago water is better…it's all just water). Bagels, on the other hand, might be the single food that actually is the best when it's from NYC. 

Most people claim it's the NYC tap water that creates the chewy outer shell surrounding soft inside that characterizes a New York bagel. In reality, it's a dose of alkalinity (lye, or absent that, baking soda), but the myth remains. For me, a great bagel is all about a jaw-exhausting chew and a heft crunchy coating of chopped onions, garlic, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, and kosher salt. Since I have yet to quite find this chewy, crunchy combination in Chicago (although there are some good places, NYC Bagel Deli and Bagel Art in Evanston come to mind), I set out to make my own.
Boiling
The recipe I followed was out of Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice. I've had great luck with other breads out of this outstanding book (the pizza dough is featured heavily in this blog, and the french baguettes are incomparable), so I figured the bagels would likely also be astounding. The recipe, like many great bread recipes, is a bit time-consuming due to several stages of rising and fermentation — but the results are worth it. Mixing up a big batch of dough on a Thursday or Friday evening and then boiling and baking the next day will yield about a dozen delicious bagels. They may not be authentic H&H, but they're almost as delicious.

Heirloom Tomatoes are Always the Star

If there is one item of produce that I most eagerly await every summer, it is the heirloom tomato. They’re definitely good enough to eat by themselves — I usually just slice them up and add a bit of salt — but added to a dish, they take the food to another level. Dishes with heirlooms should keep other flavors simple and clean, so that the bright freshness of the tomatoes isn’t hidden behind loads of other strong tastes. They simply don’t need it.

2
I got some beautiful Black Krim and Yellow Brandywine varieties at a nearby farmers’ market, and used them for a grilled thin-crust pizza. Keeping it simple, I brushed the top of my crust (Peter Reinhart’s recipe) with a bit of olive oil, added a thin layer of shredded mozzarella cheese, slices of de-pulped tomatoes, and finally a few sprinkles of goat cheese. I chose shredded mozzarella to lessen the amount of liquid on the pizza so that the crust would stay crisp (since the heirlooms are very juicy), but you could use fresh mozzarella if you prefer. I grilled it on a stone at about 500 degrees for around 10-13 minutes, until the crust looked well browned and the bottom was slightly charred. A final sprinkle of fresh basil rounded everything out.
Crust
The crust was outstanding — perfectly crisp, with a nice crunch as you bit into it. Of course, the heirlooms were the star of the dish — every bite burst with a tangy sweetness unmatched by off-season tomato impostors. Since the pizza itself is very simple, I paired it with a plate of roasted red and yellow bell peppers and italian sausage to create a full late-summer meal. But hurry! The farmstand bounty is waning as fast as the days of summer.

Basil

 

 

 

Drink Rooibos

This summer, I lost air conditioning mere days before a 90+ degree, month-long heat wave. Some might say it was my fault for selling my window AC on Craigslist a few weeks too early in anticipation of a move to a climate-controlled building, but the fact remains that it was HOT. Without any sort of air cooling, I resorted to drinking large quantities of cold beverages, with lots of ice, to stay cool and hydrated. 

Rooibos

I frequently make iced tea in the summer, but until recently, it has been primarily random green and black teas that I wanted to get rid of. Inevitably, the brew timing would be off (it's difficult to extrapolate tea quantities and steeping times from cups to gallons) and the tea would end up either too weak or overpoweringly astringent. Furthermore, the caffeine content of even green tea was too much for me to drink at night, so my iced tea would often sit in the refrigerator for weeks at a time while I drank bland water to keep from drying out.

At the beginning of this heat wave, however, I found myself with several tins of rooibos in iced-friendly flavors (cocomint, if you must ask). I boiled 2 gallons of water, added about a half cup of tea to a spice infuser bag that I had laying around (although a tea ball would work just fine), and let it steep for about 4 hours. One of the beautiful things (which I knew beforehand) about rooibos is that its low tannin content means that it is impossible to oversteep. Boil, dunk, and let it cool on the stove. Presto!

The resulting brew is a tad sweet, simply from the natural sweetness of the plant, and full of all sorts of nutritional benefits. The dark, almost wine-red color is packed with antioxidants, and it has no caffeine, so it's great for drinking at any time of the day. It comes in just about any flavor you can imagine — cocomint was perfect, although Adagio Teas has many others — and is one of the least expensive teas out there. 

I fill up 2 pitchers at a time, and can get through both of them on a hot week. You'll love it.